


Fever Dreams

by Spoilerhawk



Series: Watchpoint: Skyhold [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: CityElf!Tracer, F/F, Inquisitor!Tracer, Orlesians, Reinhardt is in a constant state of yelling, adieu cherie, ana never really shows up because she's ana and she's a ghost, that should be an archive warning, the dragon age au no one asked for, wow this sucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoilerhawk/pseuds/Spoilerhawk
Summary: Lena Oxton. Tracer to those who knew her before. Street-rat city-elf turned mercenary turned Inquisitor. She helped wage war against the demonic forces of the Fade, and had carved a path of righteous fire through Thedas. And some poor bastard wants her dead. During a visit to Val Royeaux, the House of Repose sends their best fighters to intercept the Inquisitor and her posse, leading to a deadly encounter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I posted on AO3. If it gets good reviews, I'll make a sequel. This time with actual Widowtracer. Enjoy!

A bolt of magical fire exploded beside Lena's head, singing a bit of her wild brown hair and causing her ears to ring incessantly for the next few minutes as she dead-sprinted through the dark, cold Royan streets. She could hear Rein's roars of rage and the distant  _ thwack  _ of Ana's bow. Angie seemed to have taken to the rooftops with the Rivaini apostate, Ana's daughter, and a far-off battle cry entailed justice was raining from above. Orlesians clad in sleeping attire almost as ornate as their dresses of gilded filigree poked their heads out of high-up windows, and that was the last thing they did. The dull thuds of many arrows accompanied them, and Lena could hear the crumpling bodies on the ground. She thought she saw pink as she dashed over one of them.

Lena almost retched.

She looked over her shoulder and spun, tossing a grenade full of bees that Ana had given her into the street. The furious buzzing was quelled instantly as a cloud of frost put them out of commission. The outlying bees retreated into the expertly-planted trees. A thought shot through her head that she hoped they made a home here. Lena glanced over her shoulder, seeing and hearing nothing just as a heeled foot swung viciously from the darkness. The tiny elf tumbled ass-over kettle, sliding on the smooth marble for a bit before grimacing and lifting herself from the ground. She dug in her pocket and tossed a poisoned throwing knife at the tall figure before her.

The silhouette moved a few inches and the knife embedded itself into a door behind her.

"Bonjour," purred the silhouette and Lena instantly knew her as  _ fucking Orlesian.  _ "you are a hard woman to chase. I  _ almost  _ broke a sweat."

_ Fucking arrogant _ \--"I don't suppose you're ready to break a lot more than that, love?" A roguish grin graced the elf's features, and she was on the taller woman in a literal flash, her Mark dematerializing Lena and depositing her just beside the assassin.

Her assailant was ready. An Orlesian dueling blade had been swiftly called up to clash with Lena's two daggers, and it pushed her away with relative ease. The rogue didn't allow it to deter her. She slashed, and when her foe tried to meet it with the handguard she feinted, spinning about in a whirlwind of steel, forcing the mystery woman back a bit until she stopped. Dazed, Lena let out a pained squeak when a knee slammed into her stomach, worn leather coat doing nothing to stop the force drilling into her center. Winded, she clutched her stomach, her Mark-hand glowing frenziedly against the hard marble. All was silent for an entire minute, the only sound being Lena's panting on the ground. Hair clung to her forehead and she thought that this is how it would end, that all Thedas was doomed and that she should have done better and that she had so many people to say bye to.

A voice whispered huskily in her ears and despite herself Tracer melted at the sound of it.

" _ Adieu, chérie. _ "

_ WHAM.  _ The last thing Lena remembered seeing was a shapely leg, and everything went black.

"...she's alright?...Lena...wake up...wake up.....wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup **wakeup** -"

Chaotic visions swirled through her head, memories of an event that happened four months prior. Green, blue, flashes of wonderful color and glimpses of mind-shattering horror, the Fade.

A blinding corona of light met her eyes and Lena had never been so happy to open them. The blurry, bearded face of a familiar knight, of Reinhardt Wilhelm, was knotted in concentration--that is, until he saw Lena's eyes flutter open. A hearty roar of laughter boomed through the street, the first early rays of the sun peeking through Val Royeaux's infuriatingly posh architecture and lighting up the man's snowy-white beard. Nearly blinded the elf, too.

" **She is awake, my friends!** " Reinhardt boomed enthusiastically, a hand the size of a Druffalo's head reaching down to take Lena's arm and yank her to her feet. She stumbled a bit, and her knees almost buckled when the huge warrior clapped her on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm awake. Gonna take a lot more than some posh Orlesian assassins to do me in, loves!" Lena broke into a toothy smile as Angie rushed over to hug her. Reinhardt mussed the elf's hair up while Ana (as usual) was nowhere to be seen. Angela's apostate friend was tapping the butt of her staff against the stone, watching the scene with a reserved smile.

Once Angela was done fussing over her (and placing a few healing wards just in case), the Nevarran knelt down and began to speak.

" **I did not want to say this during the fuss to get you awake, Tracer, for fear of worrying Mercy and Fareeha. Ana sighted you going down, watched the whole fight from start to finish. She is not sure, but she believes that the woman who attacked you was a member of the House of Repose. That may mean nothing to you, but back in our mercenary days we had to deal with someone very much matching the description that Ana has given us. That same person cost Ana her eye, and she was the wife of our company's boss. And so far it's uncannily similar to how she operated. I could get Gabriel to do some digging for information on the House, but nothing is guaranteed. All we know is that they call her the Widowmaker.** "

He sighed, and stood up. His great armor glistened magnificently in the morning light.

" **But now is not the time to think such thoughts. Come, my diminutive Fereldan friend! There is glory to be had!** " He hefted his great metal hammer, bigger and bulkier than any hammer had a right to be and enchanted by Angela to spew gouts of fire when he swung to enhance speed. Lena had the sneaking suspicion that it was to look as ridiculously over-the-top as the rest of him did. Reinhardt clanked off, every footfall nearly cracking the stone beneath him and Tracer joined him, jogging after the rest of their party aimed homeward.

** Lena couldn't help thinking of the voice in her ear when they departed, and she bit her lip. **


End file.
